


“I’m fine”

by escapismandsharpobjects



Category: White Collar
Genre: Fever, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Sick Neal Caffrey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:06:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25561792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/escapismandsharpobjects/pseuds/escapismandsharpobjects
Summary: Written for whumpmas in July day 27: “I’m fine.” Neal is sick, but insists he’s fine. He’s not.
Relationships: Peter Burke & Neal Caffrey
Comments: 8
Kudos: 108





	“I’m fine”

**Author's Note:**

> hello!! I hope this is ok!!

“I’m  _ fine, _ Peter,” Neal insisted, for what he thought must have been the thousandth time that day. Ever since he’d foolishly complained that his head hurt a little that morning, Peter had been breathing down his neck even more than usual, asking him if he felt okay, as though he expected Neal to flat out collapse at any minute. It was  _ exhausting _ -it was barely noon, and Neal was already feeling far too tired by Peter’s constant questioning. 

Peter responded to Neal’s insistence by raising his eyebrows, asking the silent question of,  _ really? _

Neal replied with a slightly too vigorous nod, which caused his head to throb. He didn’t wince at the pain, though, just stepped out of the Taurus, slamming the door behind him and flipping his hat onto his head. He had a job to do, and he wasn’t about to let a little headache stop him. 

He spent the next hour and a half having lunch with Roland Summers, an extremely wealthy businessman who was suspected of insider trading. He was a bland man, Neal thought, considering how much money he had. All he wanted to talk about was golf, and the stock exchange. Neal didn’t get the chance to bring up art even  _ once.  _

Still, he couldn’t deny that the lunch had been good-or, it  _ would _ have been good, if he’d wanted to eat it. It looked absolutely divine, and from the price tag surely must have tasted that way, but it had taken all of Neal’s willpower to force down the meal without gagging. 

Apart from that one slightly strange thing, however, everything went smoothly. Neal got Roland to reveal some damning information which he knew would prove invaluable in the case against him, not to mention he’d learned more than he’d ever cared to learn about the sport of golf.  _ All in all, a success, _ Neal thought, smiling to himself as he left his lunch to rendezvous with Peter a few blocks away. 

_ A few blocks... _ which felt like a hundred, as Neal slowly made his way down the sidewalk, trying not to waver on his feet. He was sick, he knew, but it was probably just a cold, and he’d done his job well regardless.  _ Maybe well enough that Peter would send him home early… _

What felt like hours later, Neal arrived back at the car. He slumped into the passenger seat, shutting the door slowly behind him. 

“Nice work,” Peter said, as he pulled out into the street. “We’ll move on him tomorrow.”

“Mm,” Neal said in response, lacking the energy to say anything more. 

They reached a stoplight, and Peter finally turned to look at his CI. “You sure you’re okay?” he asked, reaching out a hand to touch Neal’s forehead. 

Neal swatted the hand away. “I already said I’m fine,” he said, a bit more snappishly than he’d meant to. “Sorry,” he added. 

Peter shook his head as the light turned green. “You’d tell me if you felt sick, right?”

“Sure.”

The remainder of the ride back was silent. Neal has wanted nothing more than to close his eyes, but then Peter would ask him why, and he wasn’t sure he’d be able to come up with an answer, so he forced them to stay open. Every minute that passed felt like the temperature in the car dropped a degree, and Neal had taken to staring intently at the dashboard in an effort to stop the sudden onslaught of dizziness which happened whenever he looked out the window. 

An eternity later, Neal was sitting at his desk, trying-and failing-to fill out some paperwork that Peter had given him regarding this latest undercover assignment. He tried to focus, really, but the words seemed to swim across the page, and his hands were shaking too badly to write anything legibly. 

He’d nearly dozed off when something  _ slapped _ down onto the desk next to him. He jolted up in his seat, looking frantically around for a second before he saw the offending stack of papers. 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” Peter said, looking at him quizzically. “When you’re done with your report, I need you to look through these.”

Neal nodded, having processed exactly none of what Peter had just said. “Got it,” he replied, hoping that response would suffice. 

It did, luckily, and Peter wandered back to his own office, leaving Neal to slump bonelessly across the new papers.  _ Just a few minutes, _ he thought to himself,  _ and then I’ll get to work. _

“Caffrey! I need you in my office!” 

Neal slowly lifted his head, brushing off a piece of paper that stuck to his sweaty cheek.  _ Weird, _ he thought, sure that he’d been freezing earlier, before he’d fallen asleep. He stood up, blinking hard against a rush of dizziness as he did so. 

He made his way up to Peter’s office painfully slowly, trying his best not to stop and catch his breath or brace himself against another wave of dizziness. 

Finally, he reached the door, stepped inside, closed it behind him...and then everything went fuzzy, and then it went dark. 

—-

Neal woke to something cool on his forehead, and something soft surrounding him.  _ Not work, _ his mind supplied for him. But he’d  _ been _ at work...where was he now?

He opened his eyes cautiously, looking around at what he could see without lifting his still-achy head. He recognized his surroundings immediately-he was on the couch, in the Burke’s living room. How he’d gotten there, he had no idea. 

“P’ter?” he called out, grimacing as he was made aware of his painfully dry throat. 

Peter’s face appeared above him. “You’re up, that’s good,” he said, helping Neal sit up against the arm of the couch, removing a cloth from his forehead. “How do you feel? And you  _ cannot _ say you’re fine.”

“Kinda bad, honestly,” Neal admitted. “Head hurts. Thirsty. Kinda hot, too.”

Peter nodded, handing him a glass of water from the side table and a couple Tylenol. “You’ve got a pretty bad fever. It’s gone down some from when you passed out in my office, but you’re definitely still feeling it.”

Neal took the pills, drank most of the water, and then nearly choked on it when he fully processed what Peter had said-“I  _ passed out _ in your office?”

“Yeah, you did,” Peter said, his voice more serious than Neal had expected. “Just collapsed to the floor, burning up, after  _ insisting _ to me all day that you were perfectly fine.”

“I’m sorry,” Neal said, staring at the floor. 

“I know,” Peter replied,  _ “and _ I need to know you’re not going to pull something like that again. You feel sick, you tell me. You do  _ not _ pass out on the floor of my office.”

“Okay,” Neal said, feeling chastised. “No more ‘I’m fine.’”

“Good. Now you keep resting. I’ll be in the kitchen, if you need me. El will be home soon, and in about an hour you can join us for dinner, if you feel up to it.”

“I’ll do that,” Neal promised, lying back down and closing his eyes. “And Peter,” he added, as the agent turned to head back into the kitchen. 

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

Peter smiled. “Anytime, kid.”

**Author's Note:**

> thanks so much for reading!!! I hope you enjoyed this, and please feel free to let me know what you think!!


End file.
